Till Death Do Us Apart
by The Lady Arturia
Summary: A mysterious illness spread through Wizarding Britain after the Second Wizarding War and Narcissa Malfoy was one of the first to succumb to the unknown illness and one of the last to have fought it for as long as she did. Three years later, in a quarantined safe house, under the pouring rain, Lucius and Draco watch her finally be freed from her suffering. A Lucissa one-shot.


**A/n: This is a one-shot written for The Test (Challenge) on the Harry Potter Fanfiction Challenges forum. **

**TEST TWO**

A serious Illness has spread through the Wizarding World.

_Genre:_

Tragedy (Romance)

_Characters:_

Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, Draco Malfoy

**Written to happen around three years after the Second Wizarding War.**

**This story is written for my beloved Mewmew (SlytherinMew) who made me come to love the idea of writing a Lucissa story.**

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**Till Death Do Us Apart**

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He brought the cool glass to his lips and sipped on the crisp wine, concentrating on the pitter-patter of raindrops upon the Plexiglas roof of the balcony. He tilted his chin up and watched the overcast sky rumble and flash, belatedly wondering how ironic it was that the stormy sky perfectly reflected his turbulent emotions. He leaned over to the side and flinched as the icy droplets splashed against his burning skin, the torrent of rainwater flowing down the sloped roof, ricocheting off the metal railing and splashing onto him.

"Father," came a cool voice from the entrance of the balcony and he straightened back up, extending a hand and letting the freezing water numb his tingling fingertips.

"Yes, Draco," he finally said when it was clear that his son wouldn't leave him to his misery.

Draco stepped out and instantly shivered as his warmed skin came into contact with the frigid temperature of the balcony. "Why have you not cast a warming charm, father? It is freezing out here."

"Is it? I am afraid I didn't notice."

Draco eyed Lucius sideways and perched on the arm of the chair across from his, crossing both his legs and arms and fixing Lucius with a brooding gaze. "Mother has awoken," he finally said, and his voice trembled in the slightest.

Lucius's grip on the wineglass tightened, but he refused to let his emotional turmoil show on his face. "I see."

Draco shifted, uncomfortable. "Will you not go see her?"

Lucius bowed his head as he swirled the violet-coloured liquid and hummed deeply. "I shall."

"When? She may fall asleep any moment, now. This may even be the last time—"

"Draco." His voice came out sounding more like a whiplash than a stern warning. Lucius bit back a sigh at the way his son started and stared at him with wide, frightened eyes. Twenty, and he still looked more like the child he once had been—scared, unsure, faltering—than the man he had grown into. "I shall go see her now."

He had only said it to make up for the reaction he had elicited from his son, but the relief on Draco's face was genuine. The younger Malfoy's shoulders sagged and he seemed exhausted, as though he had recently undertaken manual labour. Lucius sighed under his breath and gulping down the last of his wine, stood up slowly and made his way into the adjoining room.

The safe house they currently resided in was quite luxuriant, even if it was in no way comparable to the grandeur of Malfoy Manor. It was still better than the pitiful townhouse they had been forced to take residence in, previously. They had been forced to vacate the Manor when Narcissa had caught the disease that was now rampant in Wizarding Britain and had to be moved to quarantined locations.

An unknown, noncommunicable illness that had plagued the witches and wizards of London ever since the War had ended three years ago; the history or cause of the disease was yet to be discovered and with every passing day, those who were unfortunate enough to have caught the mysterious illness were swiftly regressing. And Narcissa Malfoy was one of them.

He eased into the plush mattress, careful not to disturb his resting wife, but even the slight movement had jostled her into wakefulness. She pried her eyes open ever so slowly, and her usually liquid orbs watched him with faint recognition.

"Lucius?" she murmured, her voice cracked and choked from disuse, her lips withered and barely moving.

"Yes, my love," was his immediate response as he took the frail hand she raised and placed a tender kiss on her bony fingers. "You are awake," he said.

"I am," she replied, the corner of her mouth twitching upwards.

"You do not seem to be in much pain," he remarked idly, his free hand brushing back what shriveled strands of blonde hair were left on her head.

"I cannot feel it anymore," came her rasping reply and he couldn't help but wince at the hopelessness in her voice.

"That may be a good sign," he said softly after a moment, grateful that she hadn't heard the tremor in his voice.

"Yes," she mused, her eyes slipping halfway shut.

"Narcissa, my love, do you feel tired? Are you sleepy?" he asked urgently, alarmed by how shallow her breaths had gotten and how she was staring off to the side through glassy eyes.

"Tired," she murmured almost inaudibly and Lucius breathed in sharply as her eyes slid shut.

"Narcissa—Narcissa, you mustn't fall asleep," he begged desperately, even as he gently patted her cheek and tried to wake her. "Narcissa—Draco! Draco, come her immediately!"

He heard something shatter in the other room and Draco burst into Narcissa's bedroom, his expression wild and frantic. "What is it, father?" Draco demanded, striding over to them and kneeling beside his mother.

"I do not know, I think—she said she was tired," Lucius said helplessly as he watched Draco pry her eye open and inspect her pupil under the blue light of his wand.

Narcissa was one of the first to have succumbed to the illness and apparently one of the last to still be alive, even after so many years of silent suffering. Draco had instantly drowned himself in researching the basic requirements needed for one to be a Healer and had henceforth cared for his mother day in and day out. Without Draco, Lucius would have been lost and helpless, floundering in the cold with no one to help him or cast him more than a furtive glance or a disgusted glare.

"Father," Draco finally said as he sat back on his haunches and dropped his hands. His bangs were covering his eyes and Lucius couldn't see the expression on his face, although the almighty frown should have more or less told him what he wanted to know.

"What is it, Draco? Is your mother asleep? Will she awaken soon? Will she—will she awaken at all?"

Draco bowed his head so low that his chin was touching his chest, his mouth trembling and his hands clenched into fists as he said softly, "She will not."

Lucius felt as though some one had stuffed both their arms into the hole in his chest and was slowly pushing them open wider and wider, till he was ripped apart from within. He tried to swallow, but the boulder sized lump in his throat refused to budge and the burning in his eyes refused to go away.

"I see," he managed to choke out as he pressed Narcissa's hand—which he still held—to his lips and took in a shuddering breath. Her hand jerked in the slightest and he snapped his eyes to her face as she slowly pried her eyes open once again.

She reached out to place a hand on her son's head and Draco began to shudder as he sobbed quietly, his head bent so his mother would not have to see such a pitiful face of his. Narcissa's smile was fragile and weak, like the most tender of buds that had just bloomed but was far too weak to grow into the beautiful flower it should have been.

"My son, look at me," she gasped and Draco forced himself to look at his dying mother. "My beautiful boy, my wonderful child, my heart."

Draco whimpered and Lucius felt himself being torn apart repeatedly from the inside. Narcissa parted her lips and let out a whisper of a laugh as she caressed Draco's face, a single tear falling down from the corner of her eye. "I will always be in your heart, Draco," she murmured and the boy nodded as he sobbed, his hands clutching his mother's like it was his lifeline.

Narcissa offered her son one last smile and turned to look at her husband. "Lucius," she said in the softest of whispers, and he bent forward to press his lips to her forehead.

"Yes, my love, I am here."

"Lucius, do you remember?" she asked, her unseeing eyes swiveling about as she tried to see him through what was definitely complete blackness. "Do you remember our wedding vows? From so many years ago?"

"How can I forget?" he asked, leaning his forehead onto hers so she didn't have to search for him any longer. Grateful tears spilled down her cheeks as she smiled crookedly at him.

"I will always remember them," she choked, her voice muffled and fading swiftly. "Will you—will you say them to me once again?"

"Of course," he replied, but the confusion didn't leave her face.

"Will you say them to me again?"

Lucius swallowed. She may not be able to hear him anymore. He could see the desperation in her glassy orbs and he felt as though he was the one dying and not her. He caressed her face in his hands as a shuddering breath left her lips and pressed his own lips to hers, gently, carefully. She laughed breathlessly and her features set into one of ease and acceptance.

"I shall love you forever," she breathed, the light slowly leaving her eyes.

Draco was curled up around himself, his broken sobs the only sound Lucius could hear over the rain. He slid Narcissa's eyes shut and pressed his forehead to hers one last time as he whispered the words she would never hear.

"Till death do us apart."

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**A/n: What are your thoughts? And to be honest, writing this killed me and I was crying by the end of it, so yes, I know what you're feeling right now.**


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